Amour Sonne
by Katca Mcadar
Summary: Inspired from the film 'Schindler's List'. The SS General Yagami begins to have confusing thoughts about his Jewish house keeper. Warning: Violence, degradation, horror, N/C. This fic will contain a sensitive subject matter; don't like, don't read.
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**1**

He didn't know what day it was.

It didn't matter that he didn't know what day it was. He had cared once and quietly asked someone in charge what the date was. His question wasn't answered; he was just struck about the head and remembered falling to the ground watching his vision swim with blood. He had known something was very wrong before things had gotten as bad as they were. His intelligence was vast enough for him to notice the signs of impending disaster. He had warned people and helped as many as he could get out, but there hadn't been enough time for him. He was found out eventually and now he existed in this squalid place where humans had stamped humanity out of themselves and their prisoners; their slaves, their dogs.

His world which had once been filled with busyness, smiles, learning, colour and sweets was now grey and monotonous. Death and decay were everywhere, their oppressors completely absent of empathy or kindness. He hadn't understood fully what was happening in the beginning, but now he didn't want to understand. He couldn't. Even though he was one of those people who were open to every possibility, he would never allow himself to be open minded with these monsters and their twisted ideals. He was now ashamed to be human, ashamed of mankind and how they could think doing something like this was acceptable in pursuit of perfecting the human race.

How could he and the others around him not be counted as human? They looked the same, breathed the same air, ate, slept, laughed, and cried. Of course he had argued with himself no one person could be completely perfect, so what were they trying to accomplish?

They would fail, that much he knew for sure. But not before everyone he knew here including himself were dead. He often thought back to when he had actually once lost his temper. His placid pale demeanour erupting into a blush of rage; as he fought them desperately, to save his books of all things. What savages would burn books? As he was beaten and restrained, forced to watch his precious literature burn he had realized with horror that these people weren't human. He had also come to the abhorrent conclusion that if they could burn books they could and would easily burn people.

He hated that he was always right.

Where he was he didn't know or care, he just knew that the outcome would still be the same. He just carried on existing, as living required hope and that was nearly absent here.

Anyway he had accepted that he would get shot in the head one day; he was clever, much too clever. The longer he hid this fact the longer he stayed alive, which he only did to spite he captors. The problem was he had never looked very healthy per se; so he worked doubly hard to compensate, as in fact he was very strong physically. On the outside he was quiet and docile, but inside he was a turbulent storm of emotions and intellect that was always thinking of the next move.

It was lucky that they didn't know his actual age, where he was from, who he really was. If they knew, there was no doubt he would have been utilized to his full potential to aid them. This was something that would not happen.

What disturbed him the most was that when ever he looked at those in charge he didn't see faces any more, only cruel evil sneers of hatred. He had decided that he would only look fully into the face of the man who was going to kill him. He was going to pour all of his being into that look; so whoever shot him would know of the terrible thing that they had done and that they would never win.

When he looked around him and saw the old and young he felt a great sadness and disgust inside himself. Everyone was going to die; all those possible generations were going to be obliterated. In one of his weaker moments he had almost cried, moved to tears because of all the world changing people who were going to have their existence stolen from them. He imagined all the poetry, literature, scientific theories and discoveries he and the world would never experience.

In fact he supposed he could have been responsible for some or it. He wasn't arrogant, he just knew his strengths. One thing he was grateful for beyond words was that all of his own work was safe, but that wasn't why what he was grateful. All of his work had been taken to safety by his family. His brothers had taken his masterpieces and work in progress projects. His brothers were safe. They had gotten out and now safely resided in England. They would live, they would go on. Every miserable night he would thank God with all his being for caring for his treasured, beloved brothers.

His people were going to be stamped into the ground. He only hoped the rest of would remember them. Mourn them.

In the last letter he had sent to his brothers he had written of his suspicions, hopes and fears for the future. He had written of his disgust at what was most likely going to happen to him and those poor souls who now had no hope of escape. All his thoughts were inked beautifully into gold filament paper. He had known at this point that it was futile trying to get out so had gone underground. He had told his brothers how much he loved them and to carry on.

To remember him, but not to hope for the best.

He knew his brothers; like him, could be logical to a fault. But they would struggle to accept their eldest brother's fate. At the time he had written the letter, he knew that he was soon to be betrayed.

The man who was hiding him had had his family's lives threatened. He had heard the threat as he had pressed his head delicately against the drywall. The man protecting him had assumed that he was asleep. The reason for this being he had taken to eating sleeping pills to stay silent. Usually he didn't sleep much at all, but by taking the pills he would be rendered almost silent and undetectable in his hiding place.

On this one day he had decided to forgo the medication for no reason at all. On hearing of his impending betrayal he had written the letter. In the evening when the man bought in food; he had pressed the letter into the man's hands and begged him to make sure it reached its destination. He then let him know he knew what was going to happen next evening.

The man had wept from shame, but he had shushed him and let him know that he understood. He wasn't worth the lives of his wife and children. The man had continued to cry and he had held him securely telling him there was nothing to forgive, all he had to do was post the letter. He knew it would be done.

The next evening his hiding place was revealed to the hated enemy. He had lain on his cot and stared up at the ceiling, staying as still and incongruous as he possibly could. They screamed hate at him then descended. Hitting, kicking, slapping and punching. Hurting. He had been beaten before and sometimes; if mood had struck, he would fight back, satisfied at landing a few blows of his own. But this time he hadn't fought. There was no point. The beating he had received had been the most painful experience of his life. Not because of the physical pain, but due to this beating and capture signifying the end of his freedom, probably his life.

He had been dragged semi-conscious to the army vehicle, dripping blood along the way. His light skin has been marred with countless bruises and he had been conscious enough to guess that he left wrist was probably broken. Luckily he was ambidextrous. He definitely had many ribs broken and his teeth didn't feel as secure within his mouth. He had blacked out and woken up on the cold hard floor outside. He remembered shivering and looking up at the stars, desperately hoping he would survive the night. His instinct to live then was pathetically urgent. The clothes he had been wearing were thin; not nearly enough to warm him. Considering his weight he realized that he was thoroughly stupid to insist on wearing what he always wore. As his body began to go numb he smiled to himself, strangely grateful that if he was destined to die that very evening, at least he could gaze upon the night sky.

When he had woken up again he was inside, still pain wracked but warm and bandaged. Someone was taking care of him. Weakly looking around, he could see that he was in a make shift hospital environment. There were several other people in beds. A smiling face had appeared in front of him whispering soothing words of comfort; he felt a minute prick in his arm. He felt his pain evaporate and sleep then clouded his dark eyes.

It had taken three months for him to recover from his injuries; he had hated his forced bed ridden state. Life in the Ghetto was horrendously over crowded. There was hardly any sanitation, hardly any food. Danger constantly encircled the Ghetto due to the sadistic armed soldiers around the perimeter. However he was content there. He was able to pay back those who had cared for him by offering his medical expertise. His scientific knowledge was invaluable in producing drugs that were in short supply. Unlike his former hiding place, here he was able to interact with others and keep his mind fully occupied. Most of those he met and helped in the Ghetto were good people, friendly people. They were filled with humanity. Even though he had never considered himself very religious, he found observing the orthodox ceremonies of his people soothing. Even though their circumstances were dire, they continued to live as best as they could. They inspired him so much.

He had at first thought that they would stay there until the war was over, that they would be liberated by the victors. (He had already predicted that Germany would not win.) Then as he observed from the hospital window one evening; the murder of an elderly couple holding hands together in the cold, he knew that no one was coming. At least not any time soon.

The day the Ghetto was emptied would forever stay with him. He had recoiled with disgust at the murder of some many. Suitcases had littered the streets and the cries of men, women and children sung through the air. The screams of terror as the men and the women were separated cut through him like a blade. The constant gun fire faded away into the background, merging in with the patter of the rain. He knew that those in the hospital were going to be euthanized to spare them the horror of being murdered. Many males were being dispatched, especially those who were tall and strong. They were getting rid of those that they believed would be a threat to their regime. Later on, he despised himself for being glad that it was them rather than him. One young boy had run away in fright, away from his father, away from all that was happening. He had watched as two soldiers retrieved the terrified youngster. Their superior had aimed a shotgun straight at the child's face and fired without a thought. The wounded were killed, those that fought back were killed, and those that shouted in anger were killed. He had seen someone new in the militia in the distance; he supposed that this being was responsible for the carnage. Their laughter and enjoyment had sickened him. He hadn't believed that he could see so much blood and bone, hadn't believed that he could see so much apathetic slaughter in one day. He felt like something was very wrong inside of him as he was herded into a dingy truck and then a foul smelling train.

The misery and abject despair he felt around those squashed up against him was unlike anything he had felt so far. Instinctively he knew that wherever they were destined for was going to be far worse than what they had already experienced. They were going to suffer more then what they had already suffered so far. And he was always right.

And so he had arrived at this concentration camp; dreading what he would witness, what he would be made to do. He was no fool; he had seen the skull and crossbones on the hats of the military superiors, the SS. He and all those around him were here for only one reason, to die.

In this place time didn't exist, only the feeling that he and all the others were stuck in a perpetual nightmare. Of course saying that, he felt a great relief at still being with his people. Those who were like him, who were being wrongly tortured and persecuted. He needed them especially after their first task of breaking and laying Jewish tombstones to make a main road. Dispiritedly they had worked to desecrate the dead, who weren't allowed to rest in peace. He felt secure at night when he lay down on the uncomfortable hard wood, listening to the many male voices conversing. He tried very hard to ignore the nagging feeling inside of him that knew most of these voices would one day be forever silenced. There were so many people who slept in this ramshackle shed, but he didn't sleep. He listened instead to the snores and breathing of those around him, relishing being around actual people. In his normal life some called him an insomniac eccentric recluse, and those who truly understood him knew this mostly to be true. Though not very social by nature this hadn't stopped him from teaching at Universities, from writing, from discovering. When he lay awake at night; watching everything that had happened behind his eye lids, he discovered that he was a humanitarian. His new found ability to be able to care sometimes made him agitated. He didn't like to care for a doomed cause. All that was really left to him was to hide his identity and wait for death to take him. As long as his brothers were safe; he L Lawliet, could live with that.


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**2**

It was a freezing cold day and he was relieved to be wrapped in his fur lined coat. His trim leather gloves, (fur lined also,) warmed his hands marvellously. His perfectly pressed uniform and immaculate leather boots added to his comfort. The hat that sat upon his head kept it marginally warm, but it was there for the purpose of letting all know that he was in charge. All in all though he felt at ease, though a little cold. Almost cheerful, which was an unusual mood for him to feel. Upon his arrival; the extraction of the creatures from the Ghetto had gone well, albeit with one too many casualties for his liking. This had secured his place as not only the youngest member of the SS, but one of the few to receive personal thanks from the Führer himself. His youth made him stand out from the rest; he was the youngest ever to work himself so quickly through the ranks. He; it was universally acknowledged, was perfection.

Though not blond, he was as Aryan as was physically and mentally possible. He was tall and lithe, but built enough to show that he was fit and healthy. His face was beautifully handsome; with creamy smooth skin and almond shaped, piercing chocolate eyes. His nose was straight and his lips held an elegance about them, which told of good genes. His hair was auburn; shiny and soft looking, with never a strand out of place. The fringe carefully brushed along the top of his eye line, overall his hair was just a little longer than was usually allowed in the military. He got away with this because of who he was, because of all the merit he had earned. His stance was regal and strong, authoritarian. His hands were precisely formed; his nails trimly kept, effectively hiding what they had wrought. Not only was he attractive; but he was dangerously intelligent, easily able to control and manipulate. His previous achievements for the Gestapo were renowned; he had only taken his current position on the request of the one of the Führer's subordinates. He was a classic beauty, whose visage lied to all who looked upon him.

He had only been in command of this concentration camp for three months, but already the alterations he'd made were ensuring more efficient workers. Workers had been terrified into submission. He had quickly made pseudo friends with many of his subordinates and was well liked for throwing numerous parties at his mansion, which overlooked the Jewish encampment. Though he was appreciated in a way, this didn't stop his subordinates from being petrified of him. They knew what he was capable of, what he had done to get where he was. He was a man who was exceedingly hard to read and to please. He hardly ever smiled; hardly ever laughed, only spoke when it was absolutely necessary. If truth were told he didn't think much of the numerous men working under him, he didn't deem them worthy of his time due to their unintelligence and dull listless eyes. But then he supposed this isolation was all part of his being General of this place.

He was glad though that his job came with certain perks, such as his fine food, clothes and home. Another benefit was the number of women who were openly available to sleep with him. Though he didn't hold women in very high esteem, (due to their illogical emotions and delusions of his marrying them,) he enjoyed fucking them. He enjoyed sex far more then alcohol, smoking and killing. In fact he was smoking less nowadays due to a want to be healthier. He had never really smoked much at all anyway and currently reviled his dependence on nicotine. Smoking however was a social hobby and he was aware of how graceful he looked when he was taking a drag. Women always commented on it. He had often mused on how stupid they were; blinded by his looks into believing he was a nice person who would support them emotionally and treasure them. Only one women who he regularly slept with understood who he truly was, she was a tall brunette who wasn't as shallow as most women. She was also not nearly as foolish as the others. She was a very good fuck, enjoying sex almost as much as he did. She was the one who had suggested that he acquire a housekeeper.

So far he had managed without one, since he believed himself more than capable of taking meticulous care of his own house and preparing his own meals. But his favourite mistress had commented on who he was, a person who deserved to be served. He had thought about her idea and then decided that it couldn't hurt to acquire a housekeeper. There were plenty of able Jews to pick from, so why shouldn't he take advantage? There were his, in a way after all. He wouldn't have to pay the animal and could treat it how he liked, not having to deal with the pleasantries that a paid servant would expect. By doing this he supposed that he would have more time for imperative activities, as well as pleasurable ones. This was why he was standing in the freezing cold, awaiting his men to bring fourth Jewish girls. He was going to pick one out for the opportunity to serve him. To be honest he didn't really think that he was going to pick out a girl. Firstly he didn't care to think that a female would be taking permanent residence in his home, (albeit in the cellar.) Secondly girls, in relation to work just didn't possess the durability of men. He looked at a large group of Jews working to erect a building in the distance; he scanned the structure looking for fault. He found it and with a small sinister smirk decided; for the time being, to ignore it.

He stood, taking a moment to quietly observe the environment he had helped create. The camp was surrounded by several evil looking fences and thick barbed wire. The gates and perimeter of the camp were heavily guarded and the tomb stone road throughout the middle of the camp was finished. This had been his idea; to prove to the Jews that they were no longer in control of their destinies, that they were less than nothing. Even in death they would be disregarded. Under his rule food and water rations had been cut, the sexes had been separated, overcrowding was commonplace and lethal force was authorised. Overall he was satisfied that he had managed to make the workers lives as miserable as possible. The Jews were here to have their spirits broken and decimated, making them easier to eliminate. In a way the notion was ridiculous as they didn't count as human, they didn't have souls. He stopped that trail of thought, as sometimes he wasn't happy with where it led him. He took a drag from his cigarette; a brand specially imported from Japan, a country that he knew the Führer was thinking of allying Germany with. When he had discovered this he had immediately thought of the saying 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'

He was interrupted from his chain of thought by the arrival of a nameless solider herding a line of ten young Jewish women at a run towards him. He noted the soldier's gun aimed at the women. This was good. This showed them that they had no choice and could be killed on a whim. They were lined up in front of him and he grimly inspected them. As he had predicted none of them were up to scratch. They were much too thin, haggard. Some of them still retained their former prettiness; which a few good meals could fully remedy, but he wasn't particularly interested. Their eyes were full of dismay and dread, many of them would probably burst into tears at the slightest hint of a raised voice. Though this was his goal, it rendered them of no use to his requirements. They were shivering and useless. He dismissed them and bade the solider bring him young men to inspect. At that, moment his second in command appeared at his side wondering what was wrong with the women.

"They are weak and useless to me." He had replied in an icy, hard voice.

His second had laughed, agreed and returned to overseeing the construction work. The man hadn't yet noticed the fatal flaw which someone would be punished for. He had patience, he could wait. In the distance he could see the soldier rounding up young males. There seemed to be a certain reluctance from the men to leave their work, clearly not wanting to incur a beating or even death. He liked that. This showed that any boy he picked would be obedient and strive to work to the best of his ability. He patiently waited for the soldier to round up the best; well if you could call it that, of the bunch. General Yagami inhaled more smoke; pleased that he was now down to two cigarettes a day, proud that his willpower was nothing less than flawless.

Lawliet was perturbed. Change it was universally acknowledged was not good here. And the soldier that was rounding up males had a kind of personal vendetta against him. The boy, (for Lawliet knew he was much older than he,) had given him several vicious beatings for no reason at all. Not that the Nazis needed a reason. While he diligently broke apart rocks, (a menial task that he knew served no real purpose,) he watched his persecutor round up the healthiest looking males he could. Then he approached him, menace shining through his eyes. Lawliet kept his face down, knowing he was about to get a kicking. And he did. In an instant he was on the floor clutching his stomach and keeping his features expressionless. The soldier snarled down at him,

"And you, you piece of shit are coming as well. Hopefully General Yagami will see fit to shoot you in the head, when he sees the state of you."

As Lawliet slowly rose, he observed the other men he was to accompany. All fitter looking and younger than him. Though he guessed that his age was most likely unknown. These boys were teenagers and he had just turned twenty seven, he often used to be mistaken for someone much younger. They were screamed at to run in the direction of the main gates, gates he hadn't passed through since his arrival. Lawliet thought he should be quite frightened, he hadn't yet seen the General but he had heard stories of the man's cruelty. His aggressor had picked him especially for this 'little parade' in the hope the General would, (upon seeing his thin and unusual self,) kill him out of disgust and malice. This satisfied Lawliet a little, as it would seem his tormentor didn't have the guts to kill him himself. He'd had plenty of opportunities after all. He enjoyed the run; it warmed his numb extremities from the bitter cold that chilled his blood. Lawliet accepted the fact that his life was most likely about to end and there was a strange kind of peace in that.

General Yagami watched as the boys were rushed over and lined up in front of him. He was pleased that these Jews looked more robust than the pitiful females. He gazed at the bowed heads and decided to speak to them.

"One of you lucky boys is going to be chosen to be my housekeeper…" he said in an almost sweet, honey covered voice as he walked up and down the line of youths.

He paused briefly by Lawliet, who dared not look up. Only planning to look at the General if he decided to strike. Lawliet was alarmed at how young the General's voice sounded, couldn't be more than a late adolescent.

The General had paused to look at the youth at the furthest end of the line, as the Jews face was hidden by black unruly hair that stuck out at all angles. Unkempt was the best way to describe it. Yagami noted the sound of cold puffs of air exiting the boy's mouth. He continued.

"…has anyone of you ever served domestically in a household before?" Yagami returned to the middle of the line; his eyes unconsciously flicking to the Jew at the end of the line, more out of curiosity than anything. Nine hands raised in the air. The one hand that wasn't up was the boy who hadn't yet raised his head. Incidentally this boy looked thinner than the others, smaller somehow. Begging the question, why was this Jew bought forward? Interest was winning over necessity. Yagami inhaled some smoke and then moved towards the faceless youth.

Lawliet hadn't raised his hand as he had never run a house; in fact he was the one who had had servants. Lovely servants who had bought him all the sweets and cakes he could ever wish for…he stopped there, thinking about his past was still very painful. His breath froze when a pair of leather boots shined to a reflective degree, appeared in his line of vision. He was being directly addressed.

"On the other hand I don't really want another man's servant do I? All those annoying habits that inevitably pick up. No, I want a housekeeper who will do things my way."

Lawliet slowly, but determinedly looked up. And was shocked to see the beautiful face of a handsome youth staring intently at him and for a moment his thoughts were lost.

Yagami was astounded at the face he was greeted with. So pale and white! (With the exception of bruising.) And the eyes! They were unlike any eyes he had ever seen. So wide and black and calculating! This boy was intelligent; the General could clearly see the spark of raw intellect. This Jews eyes betrayed him. Even though he knew he should kill this boy on the spot, he didn't. For some reason the will to destroy was replaced with the will to possess. He made his decision.

"Tell me your name." Yagami ordered, before taking a drag.

Lawliet struggled for a moment, looking anywhere but the Nazi. He didn't want this! Didn't want to be taken from his people to serve in the house of this devil, who wore an angel's face so brazenly. His hands scrunched unconsciously in front of him. He didn't want to be near this SS General, didn't want to be alone with him in his domain. A glint of the skull on the Generals hat caught his eye and he shuddered.

"I won't ask again." Came the silky tone of the boy Generals voice.

Yagami had watched interestedly as the obsidian eyes avoided him and became clouded with doubt and turmoil. It was somewhat brave to keep in waiting, brave but still dangerous. His patience had run out, (which happened rarely,) and he had issued a threat.

Lawliet looked the General, square in the eye and quietly spoke.

"Luca Rosa." Lawliet dutifully gave the General his fake name. He had spoken as softly as possible.

Yagami was surprised that the boy had given him direct eye contact, but was secretly thrilled that here was a Jew that was not completely demoralised. It would be entertaining to see how long that would last under his roof. He stepped closer to the boy, noting how his body immediately tensed. Suddenly he yanked up the Jews hands, which had been worrying the material of his long sleeved top. The skin on the hands was as colourless as the face and strangely soft. The hands were violently shivering from the cold.

Lawliet had almost jumped out of his skin when his hands were seized. He hadn't meant to, but he eyes were suddenly staring into the General's imploringly. The General had regarded him coolly, let go of his hands then taken a drag from his cigarette and blown the smoke back towards him. The General then looked towards the young soldier, (who looked a little sour,) and nodded a 'yes' at him. Lawliet felt sick as the other youths were screamed at, and then jogged back through the main gates.

Yagami watched them leave, then cast a look of dismissal at his new servant before turning around towards the area of construction. The General felt cheerful once again; strangely pleased with his new acquisition, for reasons he couldn't quite fathom.

Lawliet was deeply disturbed now. He was cut off from his people. He hadn't ever felt more alone. And he had looked squarely in the eyes of General Yagami and lived. But he remembered his promise to only gaze into the eyes of his murderer. He was going to be living with the man who would one day kill him, he was sure. He wished the General had just shot him immediately, for anything would be better than waiting for death in the mansion of the enemy. Alone.


	3. 3

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**3**

Yagami slowly approached the construction site. He immediately noticed a short woman shouting at a group of soldiers who were ignoring her and laughing. She waved her arms at them, but they just shouted insults at her and sniggered. She then gave up and shouted orders at the Jewish workers. His second in command got to the group before him and jovially asked,

"What appears to be the problem gentlemen?"

Yagami appeared at his side.

"Yes, what is the problem?" He asked in a cold tone of voice. His presence was domineering, demanding respect.

The laughter instantly disappeared. He looked into each man's face until someone elucidated. A soldier nervously cleared his throat, pointed in the direction of the small woman and began,

"That Jewish bitch says that the foundations here are no good. That everything has to be torn down…JEWISH BITCH!" He finished by screaming in the Jewesses direction. At this the female rushed over. She was a very small woman, who wore clothes that were much too big for her. She had a brown piece of material tied around her head to keep her hair out of her eyes. She directly addressed Yagami in a thick accent. The General couldn't help but sneer. She sounded breathless and oddly excited, as if she was in her element.

"General! The structure must be scrapped! The foundations are useless! If we carry on the ground will subside. Subsidence and then collapse!" She punctuated the seriousness of the situation with sweeping hand gestures.

The General felt somewhat frustrated that a female; and a Jew no less, had noticed the fatal flaw of the structure. Yagami flicked his eyes in the direction of Luca, who was slowly heading in the groups direction. The General appreciated that his future housekeeper seemed to understand that he must follow him obediently. This was a perfect time to show the boy his more sadistic side. He looked down at the woman and pleasantly asked,

"Are you an architect?"

The woman's stance changed instantly. She stood firmer, prouder. Yagami noticed this and seethed.

"Yes! I am Anyanka Ludovitch. I'm an alumni from the Lithuanian University of Architecture." All said clearly.

The woman seemed to be glad that she had been given a chance to brag about herself. Yagami took in a small amount of smoke, and then mockingly spoke to his men.

"An educated Jew! Who would have thought?" The men had chuckled, clearly missing the deadly edge to the Generals voice. Yagami was going to give Luca no illusion of how he operated. He gave the soldier standing closest to the Jewess a sharp look and then calmly ordered,

"Shoot her."

The short woman had frozen in disbelief. Her mouth fell open in shock. She whirled around to look at the soldier who had been ordered to kill her, then back. She dared to look at the General himself, directly in the eyes. In a shaky voice she shouted out,

"But I'm right!"

Oddly enough it was his secondary that questioned him.

"General, she seems to know what she's talking about and…"

Yagami haughtily cut him off, he cast a dark look in Luca's direction. The General was quite disbelieving, as he answered his second in command.

"We're not going to argue with these people…" Yagami looked at the soldier again, who looked very confused.

"Shoot her, right here."

Lawliet was watching all that was happening, with dread mounting in the pit of his stomach. He knew something terrible was about to happen before him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. The small woman had effectively doomed herself as soon as she had given her credentials. Lawliet with mounting panic, couldn't help but feel that this was all for his benefit. Lawliet was still confounded about the age and fine good looks of the General, it was so ambiguous. It was surreal, he wished to hate but was too concerned with making himself unnoticeable. He didn't know whether it was his imagination or not that the General kept sending him glances that screamed 'Pay Attention.'

Lawliet watched at the woman stumbled forward erratically; away from the Nazis, frantically looking for a way out. Even though she knew very well there was none. Her gaze caught Lawliet's and it was all he could do but steadily stare back at her, his face revealing a flicker of emotion. Yagami had already noticed this about his servant. The boy's face was as if it were carved out of marble, totally emotionless. Usually this was a trait that Yagami prized; but after noticing the flash on Luca's face, he looked forward to making the boy lose his composure.

The woman was dragged back and quite suddenly she was taking brisk strong steps towards an undisturbed patch of snow. Apparently she didn't want to give the Nazis the satisfaction of seeing her fear. She was forced to her knees with a gasp. Her tiny hands made perfect imprints in the snow. Her lips were set in a firm line. She looked down angrily as the ground, but sadly up at the sky.

The soldier behind her cocked his gun at the back of her head. The General took the final drag from his cigarette. Her voice rang out hollowly.

"It will take more than that."

"I'm sure it will." Yagami replied conversationally, before throwing his cigarette butt in front her.

Then she was shot.

Lawliet watched as her small body lurched forward, then jerked itself back as if she were a rag doll being flung around. The blood from her head ran quickly, in a steady flow onto the spotless snow.

It was awful, how the red of the blood splashed the white of the snow so beautifully.

Lawliet wanted to be sick. He had shoved his hands deeply into his pockets to hide his trembling, lest the General see it. He had seen death before of course, but this one had felt like a demonstration more than any of the others. For his eyes only. For a split second Lawliet caught a triumphant smirk on the Generals lips. A throb of fear coursed through him. Though it was a cold day; the adrenaline pumping through him, telling him to run was warmth enough. The woman's body was still pouring blood; she looked so small on the ground. A crumpled heap when compared to the tall and strong Nazis gloating over her corpse. He tore his eyes away and instead looked at the skeletal, doomed building.

Yagami intently watched Luca's reaction. The boy was frozen; as if he were stuck in this moment, unable to escape. He guessed that the boy would be feeling fear right now, this was good. Fear was productive. He made sure Luca was well within ear-shot when he issued his next command to his subordinates.

"Tear it all down and rebuild…" He then pointed at the dead Jewess before continuing,

"…just like she said."

Lawliet's eyes had opened a fraction wider at this and repulsion filled him. The General saw the look. Apparently the boy's eyes could be expressive when they wanted to. Yagami was satisfied now that Luca had no illusions about him now; the boy would do things his way. The General looked forward to changing Luca irrevocably forever. One thing the General really wanted to change about the boy was his name. For some reason the name Luca just didn't fit the pale youth at all. He was a good judge of character after all and the name just did not take.

The soldiers began to scream orders at the Jews on the building sight as they dashed away from their General. His secondary nodded to Yagami and went to assist. Lawliet forced himself to look at the hem of the Generals coat; it was a warm looking garment and Lawliet for a moment, irrationally wished it was his. He wanted to run badly, but remained as still as the woman on the ground. Yagami forced him to make eye contact. When their eyes locked, Yagami felt an enormous sense of power. His eyes darted to the star sewn delicately onto Luca's top, Yagami instantly hated it and decided Luca would not wear it in his home. Lawliet disliked being examined so thoroughly. When the General elegantly beckoned him over, he despised how his feet automatically moved.

It began to heavily rain, adding to the overall gloom of the camp. The meagre shoes; that Lawliet had taken to wearing after his initial capture, were beginning to squelch as they let in copious amounts of water. This made his walk towards the General even more miserable. He hated shoes, hated the way they enclosed his feet. In his old life he had hardly ever worn shoes, preferring his feet to be in the open at all times. Humans were never meant to wear shoes in the first place! If they had, babies would be born with leather on their soles! In the grand scheme of things, the shoes only represented a small restraint that had been placed on him. So much had already been taken from him. His home, his possessions, his fortune, his friends, his family, his dignity, his whole life was being snatched out from under him. Lawliet was loathe to the concept that soon he would have to comply with the young Generals commands. From the look of him; the General was obviously a spoilt brat, who was childish and never had anyone say no to him in his life. Lawliet knew that he himself had once been like that, but never with harmful intent. He was no longer so immature; he was now timid, but selfless. Desperate for escapism. His feet moved unthinkingly; as his body had been trained to through vicious treatment by the 'superior' Nazi race, but that didn't stop his mind from quietly berating his submissiveness.

Yagami noticed that as Luca trudged through the grime to approach him that he walked with a definite slouch. The boy's attire was obviously unsuitable for the chilly environment and his general demeanour needed tidying up. The boy looked severely underweight; which though expected, irked the General somewhat. He didn't want any servant of his to look under nourished; it would look as if his household was not plentiful. On that ideal, Yagami thought it prudent that he should have a Doctor examine Luca for any serious health problems. The boy also probably needed several inoculations for any diseases that he may have picked up from the other Jews. He would contact his own Doctor to see Luca that evening, it was only the afternoon and the General had already achieved what he had come to the camp for.

It was odd how Yagami had been intrigued with this Jew on sight. Usually he hated everyone he looked at, but not Luca. The boy was so very different from him in every single way. A complete contrast. Yagami wouldn't have described Luca as ugly, yet there was something very peculiar about him. The way his black hair contrasted with his white skin was an oddity in itself in this weather, since everyone else's cheeks were tinged pink. The dark circles around Luca's eyes indicated to Yagami that perhaps this boy did not sleep much. Not unusual; but the darkness of them made the General suspect Luca had never slept, even before the war. His eyes had been the main focus; they had been the one thing that Yagami believed he and the Jew had in common. Luca's eyes were so very black and deep, he was clearly no fool. Yagami didn't want an idiot as a housekeeper, so was innately glad that he had picked an intelligent fast leaner who would be a capable servant. The General knew that he had an impeccable ability to judge people, so was confident in his decision. Yagami was also pleasantly surprised to find that he was looking forward to proving his authority over Luca; it was after-all what he did, what he had to do as leader of this operation. It would be good to have something to take his frustrations out on. Curiously however, he didn't know what had caused him to take Luca's shivering hands into his own. It certainly hadn't been pity, possibly interest? Maybe subconsciously he had wanted to gauge Luca's reaction to contact. When he had done it; Luca's eyes had seared into his, shocked and earnest. Something about that look had bothered the General, made up his mind for him. He wasn't a man prone to rash action and he disliked the uncertainty that Luca had unintentionally forced upon him. Yagami decided that in the future; any feelings of doubt that Luca unwittingly provoked in him, would be severely punished.


End file.
